


The Prince's Problem

by SeymourDisapproves



Category: Rune Factory 4
Genre: Canon Compliant, Clueless Vishnal, Let Vishnal and Lest be boyfriends you cowards, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Second Posted Fanfiction, Slice of Life, Takes place after Arc 2 but before Arc 3, There isn't that much Lest tbh, Vishnal-centric, day in the life of Vishnal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeymourDisapproves/pseuds/SeymourDisapproves
Summary: Concerns for the prince of Selphia disrupt a young butler's day.
Relationships: Lest/Vishnal (Rune Factory)
Kudos: 26





	The Prince's Problem

The sweet, gentle fragrance of flowers did nothing to remedy the sinking feeling in the pit of the young man’s stomach, and the tea in his hand so renowned for its ability to calm one’s nerves was about as potent as tepid bath water. Factoring in the hungry gaze of the red-haired woman sitting across from him, there was very little compelling him to share his burgeoning concerns. At the kitchen table in the modest studio loft above the local flower shop, the young man was beginning to lose his nerve. He was about to call off the impromptu meeting when the woman groaned, slammed both her palms down on the table, and stood up forcefully, rattling the tea set and delicate arrangement of Moondrop Flowers situated between them.

“C’mon Vishnal, I thought you said you had a mystery for me! It’s been weeks since the last time I was able to flex any of my detective muscles and I’m starving for a case! Depriving a detective of a case is like… depriving a detective of oxygen! In fact, they’re practically the same in terms of legality! You don’t want to go to prison, do you?”

The young man truly didn’t want to go to prison, but he also didn’t want to continue this conversation. However, realizing that he probably wouldn’t be able to leave until the flower shop proprietor and amateur detective got what she wanted, he decided it would be easier for both parties if he ripped this particular memory bandage off quickly. So, the young man set his cup and saucer down, folded his hands in his lap, and tried to mask the waver in his speech with his well-practiced Butler Voice.

“Ill-Illuminata,” he winced. He would have to add “Butler Voice” to his list of skills that needed improvement. Straightening in his seat, he continued, “I have reason to believe that the prince of Selphia is in trouble.”

Illuminata turned abruptly, inadvertently pushing the table in her wake. Vishnal squeaked and scrambled to save his tea as the detective began pacing in the space between her kitchen and dining area.

“A-ha! A plot on the prince’s life, just as I suspected!”

“What? no, nothing like that!”

“A-ha-ha! A plot to kidnap the prince and ransom him off for all the money in Selphia’s coffers, just as I suspected!”

“No, Illuminata, it isn’t that either.”

“…A-ha-ha-ha! A plot hatched by the prince to bring back the late Lady Ventuswill from the clutches of death, just as I suspected!!”

“Well… I can’t say for sure that he isn’t doing that-”

“Ha! Say no more, Vishnal! It has been a while since I was tasked with a missing person’s case, but I’m sure that the Great Detective can solve… The Mystery of the Missing Dragon!”

Before the elven woman could take off down the stairs and out the door to interrogate the acting prince, as well as everyone else she passed in the street, the young butler bolted across the modest living space and clapped a hand over her shoulder.

“Illuminata, please listen! This isn’t why I wanted to speak with you today!”

Removing Vishnal’s hand from her body, Illuminata straightened her vest and adjusted her monocle. “Well then, spit it out! What is the problem?”

Vishnal was suddenly very aware of his body and this cramped little room and the sickly-sweet smell of flowers tickling his nostrils. He wanted to scream and cry and run away and wretch in the street, but above all he wanted to sneeze. He did none of those things.

“You see, that’s the mystery… I’m not really sure.”

“…How am I supposed to help you solve a problem if you don’t even know what the problem is?”

“Well… how are you supposed to, ah, properly flex your detective muscles if you don’t have a properly challenging case?

Illuminata paused and puzzled over the question. After a few moments of sustained breath-holding on Vishnal’s end, the excitable woman thumped him on the back and barked out a laugh. 

“Vishnal, I like the way you think! Fear not, dear Watson! The Great Detective is on the case!”

The self-proclaimed Great Detective thundered down the stairs. For a few moments the butler in training felt a little more at ease, partly because he knew someone was finally looking into his concerns and partly because he was no longer in the presence of Illuminata. He didn’t realize that he hadn’t even gotten to tell her what to be on the lookout for until he heard the tinkle of the bell above the shop’s door, and the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach returned. Vishnal sighed and trotted down the stairs, thick-soled boots landing heavily on each step. He gave one last look out into the shop and saw Amber behind the counter making a chain out of Toyherbs. The young girl tilted her head and smiled wistfully at him, wings flapping and antennae twitching as if to say goodbye, and Vishnal left the store with a smile on his lips.

Trying to decide on his next course of action, Vishnal spotted a young woman in a tall silk hat who was being trailed by a young floating girl.

“Hello Dolce,” he shouted across the railing separating the elevated streets from the waters below.

The young woman turned, tight annoyance in her features relaxing into something like blankness and returned the greeting with a small nod and a quiet “Hello” of her own. Taking advantage of this distraction, the floating child sprang onto Dolce’s shoulders only to be propelled backwards by a well-placed talisman. Vishnal continued the conversation, unfazed.

“Are Jones and Nancy in today? I need to ask them some questions.”

“They are. Why? You aren’t coming down with something, are you?” Dolce’s brow furrowed.

“No, but someone else might be. Thank you!”

“Ah. Good,” She huffed, carefully reapplying her mask of indifference before turning to deal with the purple menace attached to the hem of her dress.

With a plan of action decided, Vishnal made his way across the plaza toward the Tiny Bandage Clinic, home to the best (and only) doctor and nurse duo in town. Upon entering the clinic, the young man’s ears were assaulted with the sickening sound of baby talk and pet names coming from behind the curtain separating the waiting room from the doctor’s office. The doctor and nurse, married for what seemed like all of recorded history but who managed to maintain the strange and passionate spark of a new relationship, put themselves back together and emerged only seconds after the bell above the door chimed. A few seconds was more than enough for most people. Jones was the first to break the silence.

“Ah, Vishnal, what brings you in today?” asked Jones.

“You’re not coming down with something, are you?” chimed Nancy.

“N-no, not at all.” 

“Oh, well that’s good news!”

“To what do we owe the visit, then?”

Vishnal became quiet, head tilted downward and eyes darting back and forth as if struggling to read a particularly difficult passage from one of Kiel’s imported books.

“I’m here on behalf of the prince. I fear that he may be ill.”

“Arthur? Well, I’m not surprised! How many times have I told him that all those nights staying up too late would catch up to him eventually?” Nancy huffed.

“No, I mean my-um, the… other prince. Prince Lest.” The word sat heavy and unfamiliar on Vishnal’s tongue. Although foreign to his mouth, the prince’s name was never un-welcome to his ears.

“Oh? I hadn’t realized he was feeling under the weather.”

“Neither had I. He had a bad reaction to some Lamp Squid some time last week, but I patched him right up- oh! Oh dear, I hope he isn’t trying to build up an immunity to poison again…” Nancy’s blue eyes darkened with worry.

“Well, actually, that’s the tricky part. I’m not sure if he’s actually feeling under the weather. All I know is that something about him is different.”

“I see… different how?” Jones readjusted his glasses.

Nancy crossed the room, sat down at a desk in the corner, pulled out a journal, quill, and inkwell from one of its many drawers, and motioned for Vishnal to continue.

“Well… lately he seems to be much more flushed. His cheeks and lips are very rosy. Well, maybe ‘rosy’ isn’t the word I’m looking for. But he definitely seems to be… brighter? And, and there are things about him that I just can’t help but notice, like his eyelashes and his big round eyes and the way his fingers feel so much rougher than mine. It’s like everything about him is heightened. I catch myself looking at him more, and I just don’t know why. Then there’s his laugh… I hear it all the time, even when he isn’t there… However, the strangest thing by far is that I’ve spoken about this with Volkanon, Clorica, and Forte, who all spend just as much if not more time with the prince as I, and they say they haven’t noticed anything at all! It’s been incredibly frustrating…” 

The more Vishnal spoke, the less frequent the scratching of Nancy’s pen became, until the only noise left in the room was Vishnal’s babbling. When he was finished, the young man looked up only to find Nancy gazing wistfully into the middle distance above his head and Jones staring at her with a comfortable, casual, familiar adoration. Something in Vishnal ached as he averted his eyes. The young man cleared his throat, which seemed to break whatever spell had been momentarily cast over the couple.

“Well? What’s the verdict? Do either of you know anything about a disease that can change a person like this? Can either of you help the prince?”

Nancy, from her place at the desk, smiled at her husband before meeting Vishnal’s gaze.

“…Well Vishnal, it certainly sounds familiar to me, and it certainly sounds like something’s changed, but I wouldn’t exactly call this a disease. Just… give it a little bit of time, and I’m sure everything will be right as rain.”

“Yes, I couldn’t have said it better myself,” added the good doctor.

“In my professional opinion, I think you boys will be just fine! What’s wrong, dear? Why the long face?”

“I mean, I was sort of hoping for some kind of official diagnosis…”

“We can’t exactly diagnose a patient without seeing them in person, now can we?”

“You’re absolutely right, Jones! Besides, what kind of medical professionals would we be if we violated patient confidentiality?”

“The same medical professionals you always were?”

Vishnal didn’t quite know what to make of Jones’ small smile or Nancy’s knowing wink, but he thanked the couple and left anyway. He was somehow more confused than he was when he first entered the clinic, but despite not having answers he still felt some of the gnawing in his stomach subside. It had since been replaced with a different, sharper kind of gnawing. 

Vishnal’s stomach growled, and the young man was surprised as he checked his pocket watch to find that it was already noon. He decided to take a break from his daily cooking training in favor of a hot meal at the local restaurant. He headed north, waving off the blacksmith trying to sell a liquid that could quench thirst, past the bath house and the young woman in front of it who was juggling plates for the amusement of tourists (though anyone who knew her personally would recognize that she was actually desperately trying not to drop them), and up to the entrance of Porcoline’s Kitchen, the large lobster statues affixed to the front of the two-story building glinting proudly in the midday sun.

Vishnal always enjoyed the smell of Porcoline’s, all fresh bread and stewed vegetables and Heavy Spice, even if he wasn’t always able to eat what he ordered. Margaret, resident musician and town worrywart, was playing a soft melody on her harp, eyes fretfully tracking the movements of an irate waiter as the restaurant’s namesake trailed behind, panting like a Wooly who hadn’t gotten it’s daily trimming.

“Dylaaaaaaaaassssss, pleeeeeeeease! I’m staaaaaarving!! Just give me a taste. A nibble. An itty bitty teeny weeny morsel!”

The waiter gently set a plate of Doria down in front of it’s intended recipient, then quickly turned to face the stout man.

“Why do you even own a restaurant if all you really want to do is eat whatever you cook?” Dylas snapped.

“I’ve been asking him the same thing for about as long as he’s had this place.” Margaret sighed, taking a moment to situate herself at the piano and brush her long hair back behind her pointy elven ears.

“Meggy! Not you too! Have I no allies in this forsaken world? No shoulder to cry on? Vishnal, won’t you take pity on a poor soul like moi and allow me to eat only a reasonable portion of your dish?”

“Actually, I’m quite hungry today. May I please have a large plate of Curry Rice?”

Margaret slammed the piano keys as the chef wailed on the floor, giving Dylas time to quickly plate the Curry Rice and set it down in front of Vishnal. The butler thanked the waiter as he stalked away, tail twitching and ears flat against his head. Tucking into a dish made by Porcoline was always a feast for the senses. Everything from the color to the aroma to the way it left one feeling warm from the inside out was as close to perfect as humanly possible. Vishnal wondered, not for the first time, if Porcoline was even human. The young man’s mind began drifting towards other things that made him feel warm from the inside out. He promptly stopped thinking about those things and decided to order an extra portion to take home.

Almost back at the castle, Vishnal realized that he got so caught up in speaking with Illuminata that morning that he never actually finished his errands for the day, and so he turned around and marched in the direction of the general store, desperately trying to find his grocery list without dropping his takeout. Ringing his items up took a bit longer than usual. The shop’s proprieter, Blossom, had gotten sick and had been confined to bed earlier in the week, leaving her not so diligent son, Doug, alone and in charge of both sorting inventory and customer service. Vishnal had to sprint home if he had any chance of completing his next set of chores, catching the ire of Forte, Selphia’s lone Dragon Knight.

It was evening by the time Vishnal had finished washing the castle’s exterior, and the day’s work was finally taking its toll. He was looking up at the orange-tinted sky and the tops of the cherry blossom trees, thinking about how good it would feel to take a bath. Then he saw him. The prince. Lest. Jogging towards him. Vishnal’s head snapped forward as he began furiously washing a window. The unfamiliar sensation of his heart jumping into his throat made him wonder if he might be the one who was coming down with something.

“Vishnal!” That bell-like voice cut through the young butler’s fatigue, and he had to fight to ensure that he didn’t lose his composure. He turned on his heels to face the other man, quickly tucking the wet washcloth into his pocket.

“Good evening, prince! It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

“I’ll say,” he sighed, “But I think this will make it all worth it. Here, these are for you!”

Lest held out a small satchel of Crystal Blue Seeds. Vishnal had no idea why the prince was giving these to him. Were they a present of some kind? Did Lest want Vishnal to plant these? Did Blue Crystal have some sort of meaning in the language of flowers? Wasn’t it a butler’s job to already know these kinds of things? Did Volkanon or Illuminata or Kiel or Arthur own a book of some kind about this subject?

“Are these really for me?” Vishnal wanted to flog himself for asking such a stupid question. The prince wouldn’t give him seeds meant for somebody else. Would he regret giving such a stupid person such a lovely gift? He tried not to dissolve into a puddle of shame.

“Well yeah! I thought I heard you say something about wanting some of these for a younger sibling the other day, so I went out and got them for you. Are they okay?”

Vishnal quickly recalled that a couple of days ago he did indeed offhandedly remark that he wanted to include some Blue Crystal Seeds in a letter to his family. He had forgotten. The prince had remembered. He accepted the gift and smiled as the prince’s fingertips brushed the palm of his hand. They were so much rougher than his own. An unexpected chill rushed up the young man’s spine, and he suddenly took great interest in examining the small satchel that the seeds had come in.

“They’re perfect! Oh, Kiefer is going to love these! Thank you so much, prince! How can I repay – oh wait! Here, this is to thank you.”

Vishnal handed Lest the extra portion of curry he got from Porcoline’s. He didn’t know why exactly, but he felt that it was important to give the prince something that the butler cherished. He didn’t really care where the impulse came from so long as the prince was happy.

The prince beamed. His whole face seemed to glow. Soft purple eyes framed by delicate yellow lashes sparkled in the ever-dimming light, and plump pink lips curled into a smile as he let out another wonderful little chuckle. Vishnal stared. The prince was different. Vishnal decided that there was nothing wrong with different.

“Thanks, Vishnal. You always seem to know just what I need.”

“…Yes! I mean, um… any time, prince. But this is really nothing compared to what you’ve done for me!” Vishnal chirped, tamping down the blush creeping up his neck with every ounce of Butler Willpower he could muster. He felt his face heat up. He would have to add “Butler Willpower” to his list of skills that needed improvement. The prince laughed his sweet, melodic little laugh.

“Happy to help!” He called over his shoulder as he walked away in the direction of the shopping district, curry in hand.

Vishnal felt a cold wet sensation on his hip and startled. Then, he fished the soaking wet washcloth out of his pocket. He sighed, dumped the cloth into his bucket, and began to gather up the rest of his cleaning supplies. He resolved to complete his remaining chores with more vigor and soggier clothes. Then he heard crashing and shouting coming from somewhere in the shopping district. Somewhere near- oh. The flower shop. Illuminata’s flower shop. In his haste to finish his chores Vishnal completely forgot that he had enlisted the detective’s help in solving the mystery of the prince’s affliction. With evening fading to night, Vishnal decided that his soiled clothes and his strong desire to be nowhere near the mess he’d caused was more than enough reason to go take that bath he coveted. Walking through town as the streetlights came on always felt magical, and Vishnal was especially enchanted by them on this night, arriving at the entrance to the hotel and bathhouse just as the last of them were roused from their slumber. 

He made his way to the bath at the far end of the inn, passing Lin Fa at the front desk talking to a few customers from out of town. Carefully removing and hanging up his uniform, Vishnal walked into the bath proper, sank into the water, and recalled the events of the day, not giving much thought to his immediate surroundings. He thought about Illuminata’s dogged pursuit to get to the bottom of what was bothering Lest, then he thought about what the doctors said about Lest’s affliction, then he thought about the kindness Lest had paid him that day, then he thought of Lest, with his kind heart and bright eyes and sweet laugh. He felt peace.

A strong hand on his shoulder broke him from those thoughts. Jumping and craning his neck, the young butler came face-to-face with a broad tan chest and looked up to see Leon, cerulean eyes full of mirth and large ears twitching playfully.

“You know Vishnal, it’s much better to leave dreams to sleeping men. Why don’t you go home and let slumber take you instead of the bath water?”

Vishnal looked behind Leon to see out the bathhouse window overlooking the steep cliff, noting that the sky was closer to an inky black than the ever-darkening purple it was when he first walked in. Realizing that he had most likely overstayed his welcome, Vishnal nodded, grinned sheepishly, and got out of the water to begin the arduous task of putting his uniform back on.

The butler-in-training had to sweep Lady Ventuswill’s empty chambers by the light of the moon filtering in through the large skylight overtaking the palace proper, but he didn’t mind. The night was clear, and Vishnal had his thoughts to keep him company.

By the time the young man was done with his final task for the day, he was one of two people left awake in the castle. He might have been the only person left awake in the whole town, had it not been for the prince. The thought would have given him a little thrill, had he the energy to be thrilled. 

The light from the other man’s chambers glowed brightly as the clanking of metal on metal echoed off the empty palace walls. Perhaps he was making a weapon or farm tool or a new set of armor. He thought about walking in and asking. He decided against it.

Vishnal silently made his way to his bed on the other side of the palace, changed into his pajamas, hung his uniform on the hook positioned over the heating vent in the corner of his room, and slipped under his covers. Despite being unable to get a straight answer as to what had been going on with the prince as of late, the young man fell asleep that night thinking only of how best to wake the prince up the next morning and feeling as if everything was right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my computer and decided to clean it up and post it. This was my first attempt at long-form fanfiction, and it was born from me starting a new save file on my 3DS copy and playing as Lest so I could romance Forte (I was finally truly coming into my own as a lesbian), only to realize that I found Vishnal, whose dialogue remained virtually unchanged from when I played as Frey, a much more compelling love interest for him. I wrote this about a year ago, but back then I didn't have an ao3 account or the heart to show it to anybody. I stopped playing the game shortly after I wrote this because some issues I had with certain events and dialogue options were getting difficult to ignore. My extensive knowledge of the game is no longer what it used to be.


End file.
